


Of Blood And Grime (McAshe)

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Feels, Fluff, GODDAMMIT BLIZZARD JUST GIVE US MCASHE, Pet Names, mcashe - Freeform, minor cussing, minor gun whump, oH gOd pEt nAmEs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-13 21:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I didn't expect this to get any kudos or comments or reads at all so thank you all so much!I'll try to update frequently enough but if you wanted to dm me or have a look at my trash maybe you could go follow my instagram account(https://www.instagram.com/marvelteaartstuff/)anyways, thank you for reading and keep shipping McAshe!





	1. Chapter 1

Year 2059  
She's tied up and helpless when McCree finds her, sedated and drugged like no damn tomorrow, with barely the strength to stay awake.  
And yet, she manages to hold her head high, her own blood streaked across her lips, and her vacant eyes stare into space.  
He grins and starts cutting the ropes. She's damn sure never letting go of her pride, but that's one of the things he likes the most about her.  
The ropes fall cleanly to the floor, and McCree carries Ashe bridal style to the worn-out backseat of the cab they stole a few weeks ago.  
The engine groans when he starts it, and he can vaguely see the scuffle of copper dust it kicks up from the cracked rear-view mirror. Behind him, Ashe huddles in fetal position, and McCree knows she would never let anybody else than B.O.B see her this vulnerable.  
And McCree stomps hard on the accelerator pedal, heading for the shack they call home.  
Because for them, home isn't a place.  
It's a person. 

Each other, to be exact.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect this to get any kudos or comments or reads at all so thank you all so much!  
> I'll try to update frequently enough but if you wanted to dm me or have a look at my trash maybe you could go follow my instagram account(https://www.instagram.com/marvelteaartstuff/)  
> anyways, thank you for reading and keep shipping McAshe!

On the night before the heist, Ashe tosses and turns as she always does. The blanket tangles, and she kicks it away. 

B.O.B guards the doorway, and his eyes glow green when he beeps softly in acknowledgement. 

Ashe knows that McCree can't sleep, either. 

She knows a lot about him. 

She knows his scars, the scrape behind his knee and the slash on his lower back, his habit of leaving doors carefully shut, and his nightmares of watching himself drown. 

She remembers the nights they spent out in the desert, shivering and talking until sunrise. 

She knows, without a doubt, that he knows her just as well as she knows him. 

It's always been like this, she thinks, as her gaze flits again to the gun on the battered bedside dresser. 

Always.


	3. Chapter 3

The blood runs down McCree's arm. 

Ashe curses again, setting down the first aid kit, and she drops his arm to frantically rummage through it for antiseptic. 

The bottle of near-undiluted alcohol is unceremoniously emptied on the bloody gash, and McCree grimaces at the stinging. 

It isn't the first time he's almost killed himself, and Ashe knows it won't be the last. 

A wet cloth is pressed onto his arm in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. 

The blood soaks through, dripping on the cab seat and Ashe growls in sheer frustration. 

'You goddamn idiot. How many more times do you have to kill yourself before you learn not to jump in the line of fire?' 

McCree chuckles, then winces as Ashe purposely tightens the bandages. 

'You like me especially 'cause I'm an idiot, Ashe.'

She won't admit it, probably never will, but she does.

She turns away, cheeks flushed. 

She does.


	4. Chapter 4

McCree yawns. 

The sun beats down viciously on the desert sand. It's one of those days when the still air is thickly woven with the scent of rain lilies, and the heat deems it impossible to do anything but laze around on the porch with a mug of iced scotch and watch the tumbleweeds roll across the barren landscape. 

He's betting on a particularly fast tumble when he hears the stairs creak, and he turns around to face a stretching Ashe. 

'Afternoon, white rabbit.' McCree tips his hat towards her. 

'Howdy to you too, cowboy.' Ashe replies. 

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and yawns again, shirt riding up just a fraction of an inch, just enough to expose a small patch of pale skin. 

McCree looks, then feels strangely guilty and looks away. 

He wonders what in tarnation is wrong with him because for god's sake, they've seen each other near naked and he's never felt this way.

He takes a long swig from his mug and decides not to dwell on it, that the strange tug in his chest that makes his heart race will eventually slow and that maybe they've gotten too close. 

Maybe. 

He doesn't even know, curse his goddamn heart.


End file.
